Loving You is like Chewing Spinach
by Rendered Reversed
Summary: !AU! Because Harry deals with romance like a fruit merchant deals with an elephant about to give birth—that is to say, not at all—Luna finds it difficult to be a passive matchmaker, Barty can't stop laughing and insulting Tom's self-esteem issues, and Tom is just horribly, horribly frustrated with the lot of them. But he still loves them. Sometimes. Oneshot. TMR/HP & LL/BC


**Warnings:** Alternate Universe (Fantasy/Really really Adventure!AU), Tom is in denial, oblivious!Harry, mentions of implied abuse, age gap relationship

 **Pairing** : TMR/HP (Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry Potter), LL/BCJr. (Luna Lovegood/Bartemius "Barty" Crouch, Jr.)

 **Summary:** Because Harry deals with romance like a fruit merchant deals with an elephant about to give birth—that is to say, inot at all/i—Luna finds it difficult to be a passive matchmaker, Barty can't stop laughing and insulting Tom's self-esteem issues at the same time, and Tom is just horribly, horribly frustrated with the lot of them.

But he still loves them. Sometimes.

 **Disclaimer** **:** Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling

* * *

"Hey, Tom?"

"Hm?"

Harry squints. "I really, really like you."

Tom spits out all of the water he'd _just_ finished drinking out of his canteen. They're _supposed_ to be refilling the group's water supply— _they_ meaning Harry is sitting there doing nothing while contemplating the meaning of the universe while _Tom_ does all the work—but apparently that's all shot to hell and Tom wonders with growing dread whether or not Luna planned this.

Whether or not Luna _instigated_ this, actually.

 _Wait_ asecond—Tom chokes on the water that'd gone down his throat. Harry waits, still and patient as ever, until enough time passes that his companion probably isn't going to give a reply.

"Hey, Tom."

" _Yes_?" Tom manages to say through his coughing fit.

"Let's catch some fish while we're here. We're almost out of the dried meat from that deer."

This time, Harry doesn't wait. He pulls out his sheathed knife, sets it down on the ground and then proceeds to unlace his combat boots. Tom is frozen until Harry starts unbuckling his pants.

"What are you _doing_?"

Harry gives him a very dry, confused look. "Uh, going fishing?"

Tom shakes his head. "No, I mean—wait, what?"

"It's the middle of autumn. I'm not going to go walk around with wet pants."

" _No_ ," Tom says, utterly thrown, "I mean, that makes sense, fine, but—"

"But what?"

"You…" This is the _first time_ that Harry has ever managed to fluster him so much. Tom is at a loss for words and can only reassure his wounded pride by thinking he'll best Harry in a spar later. Much later. And maybe after in a spar that involves swords of a different nature—

 _Not where he wants his thoughts to go!_

Tom coughs. "You. Like me. You said. Right?"

"Oh. Yeah," Harry says, "I did. I do."

There is a pause where Tom's speechlessness manages to win out. Harry shrugs and resumes taking off his trousers.

"Wait," Tom says, and Harry abruptly stops, pants awkwardly pulled down a bit below his hips with his usual green boxers showing.

"What?"

"Do you…" Tom hesitates. He doesn't want to say something so… _immature_ , but he wants clarification. Clarification is _good_. Clarification means avoiding certain awkward situations like unwarranted sexual attention and flirting with brick walls and—

Tom likes Harry. Tom might even go so far to say that he's _in love_ with Harry—a gradual thing that's been festering like an infected wound ever since they first crossed blades (and doesn't _that_ sound like a euphemism for something else?), and Tom is very willing to accept this fact of life and move on, because they both don't have time for relationships and flirting and _love_ when they're trying to track down a criminal organization and their leader who happens to be Tom's father.

Not that anyone in the group knows that, but...

Dear _God_ , Tom is woefully unprepared for this, and he _really_ needs to say something before Harry starts taking off his trousers again.

"…Do you really, really like Luna, too?" Tom asks slowly.

Harry mulls the thought over in his head, thumbs still stuck in his pants and fingers still curled about the band in position to pull it off. Tom thinks it's entirely too distracting and tries to avoid looking in… _that direction_.

"Well," Harry finally replies, "Yeah. I guess I do. It's not hard to like Luna, y'know? Or Barty. It's not hard to like Barty either."

"So you like all of us," Tom clarifies.

"Sure."

"You…really, really like all of us…?"

Harry tilts his head to the side, bites his lip and squints. Tom tries not to look at _that_ either.

"We wouldn't be traveling together if we all didn't like each other," Harry says slowly, "Right?"

"That's…true," Tom admits.

"Even though I met Luna first, that doesn't mean I like Barty any less. Or you. I don't like you any less, even though you joined us last. You're all…very important to me," Harry murmurs the last bit, cheeks bashful. "I said I really, really like you. Tom. I do."

Tom blinks and waits. Nothing more is said. Harry gets started on his pants again.

"So, that's it?"

Harry sighs, clearly frustrated with the lack of progress on removing his bottom wear. "Should there be anything else?"

Tom wants to immediately say 'yes'. Instead, he bites his tongue, holds back the monosyllable, and begins to fill the canteens again. "I suppose there doesn't have to be."

Harry nods. He slips off his trousers completely, folds them up right next to his two swords, and wades into the river. Tom is half-tempted to watch the very fascinating process of his companion fishing _with his bare hands_ , but stops himself when reminded with the very visible fact that Harry is not wearing any pants. Only boxers.

 _…And he looks_ good _._

Maybe Luna's not behind this after all.

* * *

"So, did you tell him?" Luna's excited, conspiring voice would've put Harry on edge if he hadn't already been used to it.

"I did," he replies, skewering the freshly caught fish for lunch time.

" _And_?"

Harry blinks. Again with the expectation of something _more_. Both Luna _and_ Tom. "And I did," he says simply.

Luna frowns. "Well, what did he say?"

Harry takes a moment to think back on it. "Nothing, really."

" _Nothing_?"

"Nothing," he confirms. The disappointed sigh he gets in return is mildly concerning.

"I could've sworn…"

There is a rustling sound of Luna turning her head to glance behind her. Harry is unbothered, knowing if there really _is_ danger then he would be well equipped to deal with it and his companion wouldn't hesitate to tell him. It's how things have always worked in their time together; Harry taking charge once Luna has identified the threat. It's been like that since Barty joined them, _and_ since Tom joined them.

Even though Tom is arguably the better swordsman—Harry certainly respects him as such—Tom allows him to take the lead because every one of them universally trusts Harry in that role. Harry puts the safety of the people around him at first priority, even in regards to their 'quest' so to speak, which is the kind of leadership they need in a small group of four.

Tom knows he can be too ambitious, sometimes. So he lets Harry take care of it because Harry is too stubborn to put his own ambition above his loyalty to his friends.

He feels arms wind about his waist. Harry doesn't look up from his work, but adjusts the positions of his arms to allow for a more comfortable grip. Luna sighs against his back.

"Oh Harry, you can be so _frustrating_ sometimes," she says. "But that's what makes you even cuter than you already are. I sympathize with Tom. I really do."

Harry blinks. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You _both_ did. But you know what they say—two wrongs make a right."

"…Luna, I'm pretty sure the saying is two wrongs _don't_ make a right."

He feels Luna shrug against his back. "Technicalities. Besides, how else am I to explain why you and Tom fit so well?"

Harry frowns. "We spar a lot. It's only natural that—"

Luna is laughing. Luna is laughing, and this time Harry is not sure whether or not she's laughing _at him_ or _with him_. Then again, Harry isn't laughing, so maybe it has to be the former. Mentally, Harry disregards the matter and continues skewering the small fish. Luna's always been odd. That's what he likes about her. That's how Luna gets along with everyone else, and that's why she's so likeable.

Luna smiles like the sun on a cloudy day. Luna laughs like the sprinkling of a summer shower.

…And Tom is…

Harry smiles. Tom is like a shadow. Ever-present, ever- _important_ , even when at times it's easy to forget. That's what he really, really likes about Tom—always calm, always lithe and lethal when need be. Tom adapts to every situation, and to Harry there is nothing more important than someone dependable in any situation he can think of.

Tom is balance. Tom is peace.

Tom, his heart says, is the most important person to him.

* * *

Barty is laughing. Normally, Tom would be okay with that except for the fact that this time, Barty cannot _stop_ laughing.

And, well, that. That's _really_ annoying.

Tom tries to say something. Barty holds up a hand to tell him to give him a moment, just a second really, but then a minute passes and Barty is _still laughing_ and now Tom is just plain pissed. Barty is laughing _at him_ and it's _really not funny_ to be Tom right now and it's offensive and he's more than a little insulted and—

"Barty," Tom growls, "Enough. Stop laughing."

The command is pointless. The forty year old man is literally laughing in _tears_ , hitting the ground and a complete mess because he's found something so _funny_ that he can't help himself, even when that tiny little detail is dangerous enough to be life threatening. Tom is not known to stay his hand when pulling out his sword. Most things die after seeing the tip of his rapier.

Most things other than, well, _Harry_ , which brings it back around to why Barty is laughing in the first place.

"You—you said—you— _ha_!"

Tom sighs.

"He—and you— _pfft_ —"

"Barty."

"Alright, okay, fine—" The man's laughter winds down to gasping chuckles, and Tom waits another minute to get a coherent sentence out of him. "Okay. I'm okay. Just… _pfft_ —"

" _Barty_."

" _Fine._ What's got _you_ so worked up? Oh, wait, _I know_ —"

"Barty, you are five seconds away from being mortally wounded."

" _Alright_!" Barty gasps. "I'll stop. But, Tom, _seriously_? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Harry's _head over heels_ in love with you and you're too self-conscious to realize it!"

"He is _not_ ," Tom says immediately, the three words all too familiar on his tongue. "And I am _not_. What proof do you have? You don't have any. See?"

They're supposed to be picking up sticks for their campfire. How else are they going to cook the fish? But no, Barty would prefer to laugh about Tom's struggling crush than actually do the work in order to eat lunch, and Tom wonders why he couldn't have just gone with Luna.

Then again, Luna's really no better than Barty when it comes to Harry.

"Oh my _God_. You know, when you first teamed up with us the last thing I expected was _mister-mysterious-dark-cloak-pointy-sword_ to be having _insecurity problems_. And I certainly didn't expect to be _talking to you_ about them. Tom, the only person who doesn't think Harry loves you is _you_. And that _includes_ Harry."

"He does not," Tom says like a broken record. "How would you know?"

"How would _you_ know?" Barty snarks back. "I think Luna and I are damn better judges than _you_ are."

Tom sneers. "I doubt that. You're both insane."

"I _take offense_! You have no right to talk about _my_ insanity when _you_ can't see two meters in front of your eyes _every day_. I swear to God, Harry looks at you like you make the sun rise every morning and you can't even _see it_. And it's been this way for _months_!"

"No," Tom sniffs petulantly, "That's how he looks at _Luna_."

"Oh dear God…if you're going to go on about how Harry and Luna are secretly fucking like you did _the first month_ —"

"Barty, shut up and help me pick up branches."

"I'm _just saying_ ," Barty grumbles as he acquiesces. "Harry and Luna are legitimately the most platonic pair _in the world_. _Which goes to prove my point_! You didn't even see _that_ and you think you're a good judge of whether or not Harry's in love with you? Take the advice of someone who's lived for four decades. _You're both in love with each other,_ go and snog in the woods somewhere and don't let me see it. Then we'll be good."

"You're delusional," Tom argues. "How do you even know Harry likes men? You don't. And if he doesn't, then he probably doesn't like _me_ that way either."

Barty's look is both insulted and exasperated. "Tom, Harry's gay."

"No he isn't."

"Yes, he _is_."

"And I'm saying he _isn't_."

Barty groans. "Pot, meet kettle. Seriously, _I'm_ the delusional one? Fine. If Harry's not gay, he's not _straight_ either. What the hell do you young people call it…pansexual? Demisexual? _Whatever_. Harry isn't…Harry doesn't…He's not _lustful_. But he _is_ in love with you so you better go deal with this ridiculous sexual tension sometime soon because Luna and I are getting tired of it."

"Don't you mean it's putting Luna on edge and that, in turn, is putting _you_ on edge?" Tom asks mildly.

"She's _nineteen!_ " Barty shouts. "I'm _twice her age_. I'm not—she isn't— _You know_!"

"Luna doesn't care," Tom points out, eager to switch subjects to something that puts Barty at a disadvantage.

"Of course she doesn't! She's too young to care!"

"Are you insulting her intelligence?"

"Wha—no," Barty grumbles, "I'm not. She's a good little lady. I know that. Good judge of character, and what not. And she's been through a lot, I can see that even if she doesn't say anything. That's why she shouldn't go after an old man like me—it's a waste. A real waste, you hear?"

"Luna doesn't think so. And I'm more inclined to believe _her_ than _you_ in this matter," Tom argues back. "She'd be good for you, and you'd be good _to her_. In the end, I think that's all she cares about—until Harry, no one's ever been good _to her_. _For her_."

"You don't think I can't see that?" Barty says. "Of course I can. Of course I _know_. And of course I wouldn't let just _any ass_ down the alley take her! To hell I would! But not me. It _can't_ be me. I'm _twice her age_. She needs someone, but not me. I'm bad. Raw. Chewed up and spat back out _trash_."

Tom snorts. "Keep telling yourself that."

"I'm _serious_."

"And so am I. She's got you bested, and you're too stubborn to admit it. It's only a matter of time."

Barty yanks a particularly stuck branch out from the foliage in lieu of a retort. Tom smirks and continues on his way. For all Barty laughed at _him_ , Tom thinks it's _Barty_ that needs to be laughed at sometimes. The man is like that—no, they're _all_ like that. Their small little band of four is made up of the strangest, defected people that can be found in their situation.

Harry, completely oblivious to all social cues and niceties but a genius when pitted against an opponent in any sort of warfare. Luna, a magical prodigy who didn't have the slightest clue about how to live for herself; only how to be used. Barty, from a rich, noble family thrown into the throes of street wars and mafia. And he…himself, Tom Riddle, son of the notorious Dark Lord Voldemort— _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ —leader of the criminal organization known as the Death Eaters.

A father who murdered Harry's parents.

A father who'd abandoned him, too.

They're all pretty fucked up, in retrospect. That's why something overstepping that unmarked boundary line, that line of 'camaraderie' and 'platonic love' into something all the more intimate, something all the more _uncontrollable_ …

It shouldn't happen. Tom knows that. Barty knows that. They have to take care of their own—Luna, Harry, their small band of four.

 _"I really, really like you."_

Tom stamps on his feelings while trying to preserve Harry's. But it's impossible when the two are one and the same.

* * *

 **lol so I was feeling sad about feels coming from depressing fics and so this came of it! This oneshot! This! With my OT4!**

 **Dude. Harry, Tom, Luna, and Barty would make an awesome group. I actually have a very very very inprogress drabble series that I may or may not have dropped before it was even posted about them (I like to affectionately call it, "A Story of Four"), and this MIGHT (probably is, actually) be where this oneshot originates from.**

 **Like a side-story kind of thing. So. Right.**

 **Also I'm in killugon hell right now from the stupidly addicting HxH fandom, so if you have any really awesome killugon to throw at me please do. thanks guys**

 **Sincerely,**

 **R.R.**


End file.
